


I am not Spock

by Serenity



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fun, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenity/pseuds/Serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After "The Hounds of Baskerville" Sherlock has a complaint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am not Spock

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Я не Спок](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932510) by [krasnoe_solnishko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krasnoe_solnishko/pseuds/krasnoe_solnishko)



> Beta by dear lilith!

“You called me a Vulcan!“ Sherlock cried.

“Well, obviously, I was mistaken.” John said, hiding behind the big chair while Sherlock threw a brand new pair of sunglasses across the living room.

They hit the mirror and thank God they were not made out of metal, so they simply bounced off the polished surface and fell to the floor.

“Sherlock, cut it out,” John yelled, ducking again and a new smashing sound informed him that some more of the table's contentsnext to Sherlock followed the path of the glasses. 

John peeked out from one side of the chair and stared at Sherlock who was blind with rage over a simple name he had called him. John wondered if the drug was still affecting him but then he remembered Mycroft's face when he had asked him about their childhood rivalry and sighed.

“Are you done behaving like a five-year old?” he asked.

The noise stopped for a moment. Then a puffing sound indicated that Sherlock had claimed the couch, sulking.

John rose carefully. He tilted his head when he saw his man curled up on the leather sofa, showing the world his backside. 

“Sherlock.” John said gently, though he rather wanted to scold him for exploding like that.

Sherlock did not move, he sighed several times. John approached him, carefully. 

“Look, down in Baskerville, you scared me...I...I've never seen you like that.” John curled his mouth. Sherlock did not stir. John forced out a breath of exasperation and clashed his arms to his sides in utter frustration.

Should he leave and let him sulk? No, no he could not. Sherlock would follow him anyway because he did not want to be left alone. He wanted to be understood, annoyingly, in a very childish way. Hell, it was hard to play along these games of his but John Watson's nerves were used to being strained to the extreme in the presence of his friend.

John went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. The water bubbled and soon the smell of black tea filled the room. He prepared a plate with two cups, milk and sugar. When he re-entered the living room Sherlock still lay on the couch  in the exact same position .

John put the tray down and sat at a far corner  of the sofa , careful not to touch Sherlock's feet. He poured himself a cup of tea, added some milk and rested against the right side of the sofa. He sniffed the tea's aroma and took a sip. Then he put it down again.

“I am sorry, Sherlock, forgive me.” he said wholeheartedly, still not sure what had ticked his friend off.

Sherlock's head turned. He looked at John. John smiled with one corner of his mouth and held eye contact.

“I'm no bloody Vulcan!” Sherlock said.

“I know.” John replied softly. “Though, I like Spock,” he added.

Sherlock sat up. “Everybody likes Spock, but do they know what that means being compared to him?”

“What is it supposed to mean, Sherlock? Relax! It's a TV show.” John lifted his cup again, sipping at the milky fluid.

“They have no emotions.”

“Spock does. He is half-Vulcan.”

“ _He is half-Vulcan.”_ Sherlock mimicked John. “Okay, he **pretends** to have no emotions.”

John smiled in amusement. “Well, does he?”

Sherlock's mouth twitched just a tiny bit. “I have emotions,” he protested though his argument felt weak to John's predication.

Sherlock scowled. “He only has sex every seven year.”

“Are you sure?” John asked him, both of his brows ascending while he swallowed a mouthful of his tea.

“I am!”

“What about Kirk?”

“What about him?”

John smiled, watching him intently. With this brain of his Sherlock clearly did not need him to spell it out.

Sherlock's mouth dropped open. “You saw that, too?”

John put down the cup, then running a hand over Sherlock's left arm, eventually bending over him, his mouth close to Sherlock's ear. “Let me be the Kirk to your Spock.”

“I am not Spock!” he said, his voice dropping to a lower register, breathing against John's jaw. Eventually he pulled his soldier against his body, proving him wrong again and again.

 

 

 

 


End file.
